On the beach
by Loryko
Summary: It was always the same. Since that fateful day, he dreamt the same- if he could even sleep. The continuing nightmare wouldn't stop. He didn't want any of this anymore. In his opinion, his life was meaningless. Yet, he kept on living... for the sake of the tenth. Inspired by a German poem.


**This one-shot was inspired by a German poem I had to read and interpret. Well, this story is my interpretation of it (That no one except you now know).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn nor the poem. **

* * *

It was always the same. Since that fateful day, he dreamt the same –if he could even sleep, that is. His mind was blank since then, he didn't live anymore. He was like a shell, doing his duty but feeling nothing anymore.

His feelings were numb.

He didn't care anymore. He was finished with all of this. If it was for him to decide, he would've ended his life on the same day his purpose to live died too. He could laugh. A dry, cold laugh.

He was so sure that, without his most precious purpose of living, he would be dead. But no, he kept on living.

For what?

For his other friends? For his comrades? For his duty?  
He kept on living because his best friend would want it. The charming, always kind brunette would never want for him to die, let alone commit such a sin.

He kept on living for the sake of the dead loved one.

Yet he wasn't living like he was supposed to. He breathed in and out, ate, slept, walked. Did everything a living being has to do. But his mind and his soul, were completely out of him. How should he enjoy life? How could he? His reason why he even started to enjoy it was gone.

Sawada Tsunayoshi was gone.

"_Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival."_

_-C.S. Lewis_

He wasn't there to protect him. The tenth kept on saying he didn't need anyone at his side while having a meeting with Millefiore.

He kept on telling his much-loved boss how dangerous, yes, even naive it was. But the tenth just waved him off with a small smile.

He could have stopped him. He could have gone with him.

But he didn't. He didn't want to disobey his beloved tenth. Not once. So after some frown-dominating arguing, he gave in. He gave in and so his boss went for his demise.

How stupid of him.

He hates himself. He hates himself so much he wants to die. What kind of friend is he? How stupid can he get? Even if it meant disobeying his tenth, at least it wouldn't have-

If only he had…

After he heard the announcement of the death, he was carving in.

He couldn't breathe, his whole body shook, and his head ached as if thousands of bombs were exploded on it.

He fell to the ground; his legs gave in too easily. He didn't cry. Though his eyes were wide in disbelief.

It was a dream, right? He didn't even recognise the crying and sobbing next to him. He didn't hear the loud heartfelt screams or the demolishing of the furniture. He didn't hear anything. He only felt his heartbeat getting quicker and quicker.

It was a dream, _right_?

Later at night, when everyone didn't know what to do, they all went to their respective rooms. Nothing was spoken. Tears still fell. He went to his room, too. But… still not one tear fell from _his_ face. He loosened his tie, he kicked away his shoes.

He lay on the bed.

He realised it. The sky- their sky- _his_ sky was gone.

The once clear, blue sky was now coloured in dark, red.

That is when he gave in.

That is when he did it.

And everyone in the mansion heard his painful crying, sobbing and pleading.

They all started anew. Another wave of pain seeped through all of them.

On this day, it was the first time he dreamt this certain dream.

And it had yet to come every night. Every dull, cruel night.

* * *

He stood on the beach. The salty air was so refreshing, relaxing. The wind slowly blew trough his hair. He closed his eyes and breathed in. It felt so good. The stress went away; washed away by the calming sea.

As he went on, he spotted someone. His smile brightened the minute he saw his beloved tenth sitting on the shore. He went closer, knowing the other didn't notice him yet. The brunette did something he couldn't quite guess, but at closer inspection, he saw the tenth drawing into the sand with his finger. He wanted to get a closer look, but somehow, his dream wouldn't let him. He had no control of it whatsoever.

That set him up a bit, but he still tried to look at it from another angle. And yes, there, drawn on the sand was the word "family" with a clam beside and a rainbow on top. The silver-haired adult chuckled lightly to himself. Even though the tenth was now an adult like him, he still liked to do such things.

It warmed his heart somehow. And he didn't even realise that he didn't think of the tragic dilemma that happened today. No, somehow, his conscious didn't allow it.

And maybe, he was grateful.

He just stood there watching his beloved boss. He didn't see his face cause the brunette was faced to the sea, but he couldn't care less. Just seeing him, doing nothing spectacular made him really warm and bubbly inside.

Maybe it was because they never really went out those days. There were some Sundays the tenth insisted they'd spent together, but most of the time it was without the neither cloud nor mist guardians. The former being occupied with the Foundation back in Japan and the latter just simply not wanting to spend his time with the mafia. His better side, however, was always present. He remembers seeing the tenth smile whenever the shy girl comes to them, just enjoying their company.

It was a rare occasion, really, but sometimes, all of them were present.

Mostly on Christmas, mind you. They'd be all hunched up in the grand living room of the mansion, and the tenth would always smile and exchange his presents with the others. Even the skylark did have presents for everyone, surprising as it may sound. But everyone had a good time and the tenth made sure to always repeat it.

Not only the guardians were present on these days, but also the other ones connected to Vongola, meaning their mechanics, close families like Dino's or just simply relatives.

(Not that Nana knew anything of the Mafia; they still kept it hidden from her)

Kyoko and Haru would not always attend the festivities; both having their respectable jobs and lives in Japan, but some days they'd spent their holidays in Italy, making the tenth smile one of his big, goofy ones.

The tenth realised soon after he graduated from school that his crush was just a pure, innocent one and his love for her turned to a caring, friendly and familiar love. Tenth always told him how he holds her and Haru dear, as in family or sisters.

Through the Mafia comes the pain; he often saw his tenth silently mourning when yet another ally was murdered. The brunette always blamed himself for it. The right hand man told him it's not his fault, tried to reassure him, but the tenth didn't listen. He couldn't listen. The brunette always thought of the family where they belonged to. They surely had friends, relatives or even children. And the tenth felt awful at this.

Some months ago, he overheard a conversation between the brunette and his tutor. He could hear his boss' slightly cracking voice; he must've been in pain.

"_What … die, Reborn? I … take it. I never could…"_

"_You worry… Tsuna. They can… of themselves."_

He couldn't grasp the whole conversation, for they had their voices too low, but he could guess what was going on. He wanted to storm in, like the storm he _is _and tell his boss that they'd all protect each other; they'd never leave him alone.

And so, he did.

And never in his life has he seen so many emotions mixed into those brown orbs. Some tears fell down from said eyes, but a smile came soon afterwards.

He didn't regret storming in, even when the hitman punished him for eavesdropping.

After that, the brunette seemed to act normal again and he found himself feeling relieve and gratefulness washing over him.

…

* * *

He still was watching his boss, who drew more and more into the sand. He saw a round …thing, that resembled a pacifier and the brunette seemed to draw more and more. He drew a cloud, sun, some wavy lines, clouds with –what he assumed- rain, lighting and, of course, a tornado. It was cute to watch, really. The tenth drew a big circle around all of it, before the wave washed it all away.

His past self would've ranted to the sea how it could possibly ruin the tenth's art. Maybe he'd even try to throw bombs at it. He was really weird in the past, huh? Overprotective to no end. But looking back at it, even then, the tenth accepted his weird-self unconditionally.

The sky accepted all of them, leaving no one alone, forgiving every being.

_You are amazing tenth_. He smiled to himself. The brunette started to draw anew as soon as the wave gently vanished. Thinking it would be best to wait until he drew everything, he turned his head upwards. As he looked at the admired sky, he noticed how some clouds were building up. Grey thick clouds that engulfed the sky bit by bit. Not the clouds that resemble their comrade, no, those there felt too dangerous.

Worry washed over him when he looked down to his boss again and he was taken aback at what he saw. The tenth, his tenth was looking in his direction. The brunette had an unreadable expression on him, his hand still in the sand.

He didn't know what to do as he saw him. Should he speak? Should he try to go to him? But no, there was something like a barrier between them, he ...couldn't go. Just as he was ready to open his mouth, he blinked, his breath was stuck in his lungs and he felt sweat begin to leave him.

The brunette smiled.

A genuine, heartfelt smile was directed at him, and only him. Their eyes met a long time ago, and he was surprised he didn't drop to the ground. The smile was just too bright, yet not goofy or ridiculous. Just perfect.

The pain was unbearable. He wanted to see this smile again! Not only in his dreams. No, he wanted his smile in their world, he wanted to show all of them that the boss lives.

He wanted them to see this smile.

But he knew it was futile. And … just a dream. He felt like thousands of daggers, swords and bullets stabbed him right trough the heart.

Tenth…. Tenth…

Come back.

It turned out that this dream… was a nightmare.

He couldn't describe the horrifying ache in his heart, in his whole body, when he witnessed what came next.

Numbness took over him again. Not moving, he watched as the still smiling, young man was being pulled into the unforgiving, deep sea. The smile only did fade when he was out of sight, underwater.

All the drawings were washed away. No trace remained.

The sea took the tenth away from him. The sea destroyed the drawings. The sea destroyed everything.

_Il mare distructo tuto._

Mare… Millefiore.

If only they didn't exist.

And then, he woke up.

* * *

The dream repeated itself countless times, and every time he'd wake up with aching pain in his heart and sweat covering his entire body.

He came to the conclusion that he hated the nights more than the lifeless days. He still did his duties, for there only passed some days between the faithful day and then, but for him, it almost felt like months, years even.

Time didn't matter anymore.

And he didn't talk with his comrades either. All of them were mourning anyways, it had no point. They wouldn't respond nor listen. Well, he wouldn't either.

Some days ago, though, he almost punched the male mist guardian. After only a few days, the pineapple was done with feeling pity and started mocking them, for they "were weak and too vulnerable". That was when he actually _felt_ something again. Rage, hate, disgust… His blood boiled, his hatred for the always disliked man grew to a point where he just had to snap.

And as he readied himself to demolish the other's face, the guardians, who were silently watching until then, held him back. The frustration was evident in the silver-haired's face and the guardians could witness first hand, how the right hand man broke down again, cursing everyone and no one in several languages as he sobbed and screamed, already down on the cold carpet.

The others didn't know what to do. They stood there, not moving an inch and watched their fellow friend crying in sorrow.

It was only when the lighting guardian began to sob, that all of them snapped into reality again.

The mist guardian walked away, a frown marking his face clearly.

Not one of them noticed how he too, felt depressed. That he only tried to give vent to his anger, his utterly, unbearable frustration. It's not like the pineapple liked him that much, it was just himself… not to do anything to stop them.

Now he can't control his body anymore.

Tch, as if this threat was ever meant seriously. In the beginning, yes… but after some years…

They all acknowledged their boss, and the right hand was proud to no end.

…

* * *

The silver-haired man still continued to have the nightmares, never ending and getting crueller every time he had them. Once, the beautiful, yet pale sea turned into a dark red liquid, covering his dear boss with a gruesome thickness and it attached itself on the brunette like a second skin, not letting go and staining the beautiful male with its impureness. In this dream, the right hand man _could_ move. He actually could move and used it to his advantage, running and trying not to trip in the –now black- sand. He reached his arm out to the stained man in the water, trying to scream his name, but his voice didn't come out. He was desperate to safe his own saviour. He couldn't give up now, he couldn't lose. He couldn't let him die.

Yet he was too late again.

* * *

The continuation of the nightmares coupled with the fact that the one person he held so dear to his heart vanished from this planet, was a horrifying way to spend his days. Day in, day out, he would only think of him, would blame himself, would mourn and exclude himself from the other guardians and society. He didn't want to see anyone. Never. He only wanted to be by his best friend.

And that's what he did.

Every day, he would sit by his friend's site, would talk to him, or just sit there and listen to the sounds surrounding him. Of course, he'd never get a response from the one he talked to, but it did ease his mind, even if it was just a minimal bit.

One day though, when the silver-haired man was about to head to the base, he heard a weird sound coming from the direction he just left behind. It surely came from where the coffin lay.

* * *

The coffin wasn't buried for some reason. The tenth told them some long time ago that when he died, he'd like to have it that way. The storm guardian couldn't grasp why, but he didn't question it. The tenth always made the right decision, even though he too was kind of bewildered back then as to why they had to destroy the Vongola rings. Of course, what the brunette told them was thoughtful and reasonable: Too many dangerous incidents already started or happened and to prevent further damage and greedy actions from the other famiglias, it was a good decision.

The skylark, pineapple-head and even turf-top were against it, though. For the sun guardian was it unreasonable and a too dangerous risk the boss wanted to take. He couldn't think of a save way of living _without_ them. The other two just wanted to hold on to the power.

Because of this, there were countless fights, mostly verbal, between the tenth and the other three.

Though the right hand man stood always beside his tenth, fighting alongside him and not letting him down. Despite his own uneasiness, he still believed in the cherished man next to him.

He would always follow him. No matter what.

_But not into death_. How pathetic, he thought.

* * *

The storm guardian walked back slowly towards the Vongola-coffin. He almost wanted to shout, but the only words leaving him where a demand who disturbed the deep slumber of the tenth.

What he found, though, surprised him to no end.

There, sitting in the carefully shaped resting place, was one certain brunette.

Only younger.

Like in trance, the silver-haired man called out his boss' name, unable to look away from him. Emotions, so many emotions mixed in his stomach.

This just couldn't be.

The brunette seemed to recognise him, looking as frightened and bewildered as himself.

The storm still couldn't believe what was right before him… This couldn't happen. Again, a terrifying dream? What to do? What was he supposed to do?

It wasn't a dream. It was the reality.

The younger self of his beloved boss was staring at him out of the coffin.

_No…_

But suddenly, the emerald eyes widened as an idea, a great, hopeful idea popped into his head. Forgetting everything he felt, focusing on that last string of hope, he fell to his knees and grabbed both shoulders of his now smaller boss, sensing unintentional how the small frame shivered in fright. The emotions inside of him wanted to be released again, but he suppressed it the best he could. No, he had to focus. It could save everything.

Everything that is messed up could be fixed.

But first of all, he did that what he wanted to do all this weeks.

Apologizing.

He apologized countless times, even though he knew the one he apologized to had no idea what happened.

In his head, the storm apologized for not being there for him, for not dodging the bullets, for being such a useless right hand man.

For being such a useless friend.

But he didn't speak all that out loud. He knew it would only confuse the child version of his boss before him. But his heart just wanted to scream it all out, getting it to the other person that actually lived. Not the … dead one he spoke to the last few weeks.

He only stopped his track of thoughts when the young tenth hissed out in pain. Mentally punching himself for hurting the small frame before him and an apology later, he tried to calm down.

Now, he just had to take the opportunity of the situation at hand.

The small boss explained to him that he was shot by the ten-years-bazooka. The silver-haired guardian flinched inwardly. He looked at the scared face the brunette made and cursed even more. The tenth was terrified, that much was certain. Of course he was, he sat in a coffin for Vongola's sake. The storm was devastated. He could not bear this innocent 14-year old looking at him with painful curiosity and fear. He could not. No.

Five minutes were all he had to explain everything. Five minutes would change the future.

In these five minutes he had to explain it all. He had to make sure the young tenth would do as he said, ironically as it sounded.

Yet while he was still thinking, the time ran out. He had to only tell him the most important stuff…

If he wasn't trying so hard to be calm, the tenth would see how much of a shivering wreck he was right now. It all lasted on his shoulders. He had to do it now, and quick.

He held up the picture of the orange-haired man he hated so much. His young boss just had to do it. He had to take his life. He just had to. It had to work. And even if his kind-hearted tenth would never do this, the silver-haired man was sure that _his_ younger version would do it without a second thought. To ensure the safety of the brunette, he'd do anything. He was sure of that. He told himself in his head that everything would be alright now. He clung to this idea with all his heart and hope. They could not fail it. The storm's younger version was capable of killing. He had so much hope.

And… as soon as the tenth would vanish after the five minutes are up, he'd be replaced by his older, _living_ self, right? He doesn't understand that much of time paradoxes (it's something he never really cared about, despite all the happenings with the stupid cow's bazooka), but he was confident his boss would pop out of the light pink smoke, there, sitting in the coffin he owns, breathing, living, and being unscathed.  
He imagined the brunette telling him he did a great job… and afterwards both of them hugging in a tight embrace full of stocked up emotions dwelling in their bodies.

Then, they'd all go back to the way it was; without the deaths, without the angst, without Millefiore.

In peace.

They'd resume their daily lives in the mansion and be the mafia family, Tsuna cherishes.

Before thinking too much and better staying at the topic at hand, before his dreams come true, he had to ask the brunette one more thing before the time was up. He had to be certain. He didn't want to take any chances.

But the tenth interjected his sentence, asking him the question he never wanted to hear:

Yes, _why was the tenth in a coffin_?

He could've broken down by now, then and there. He wanted to hug the brunette and cry out loud, wanted to scream and apologize all over. All the emotions were messing with him that day. Being depressed, to being more depressed, then hoping against hope and then getting his heart crushed once again.  
It just wasn't fair.

He didn't want to tell him. No way. He'd never look him in the eyes. It was just too painful. How could he answer? How could he tell him he died because no one was with him? No, the child wouldn't take it. The storm couldn't take it either.

He couldn't tell him how he failed as a right hand man so miserably.

He took a small glance at the questioner and it felt like his stomach twisted and turned; that all his organs were wrenched at seeing the innocence and fright the tiny tenth emitted.

The tenth wanted to know. But no, he could not. This was the third time he didn't obey to his beloved boss. It… was impossible.

He just wanted to hug him. So, so tight. Either the young-or the present version was fine. He wanted to hug both of them.

* * *

The tenth always did that, hugging that is. When someone was down, depressed or silently mourning over a lost ally, the brunette would always know when somebody was unhappy. Then, he'd figure out what was wrong by talking to them, but not by stepping in their personal space.

Sometimes, with his friends, he didn't even question and just sat down with them, either rubbing their backs in a comfortable motion or breaking the bubble completely and hugging them tightly. None of the guardians admitted it out loud, but they much preferred the latter comforting procedure. Having the boss hug them, soothing them, because they're family and friends, felt just very good and eased their pain.

Even the skylark would sometimes -on very rare occasions- silently go into the office of his hardly-accepted boss and sit down on the couch placed there (When he wasn't in Japan or all around the world, that is).

The black-haired man would never speak; just grumpily sit there until the tenth came to him from the very small kitchen attached to the office, prepared with delicious Japanese tea. The tenth would sit next to him, not uttering a word too and not touching him for comfort. Even though the cloud guardian acknowledged him, never in his entire life would he let touch himself by his brunette mafia boss, or his fellow guardians. But sitting there with him, staying silent and watching the scenery from the window, and listening to the chirping outside, surely gave him some comfort and peace.

The silver-haired man sometimes stepped into the tenth's office, and could get a good look at the too. Sitting content next to each other and enjoying the silence. He wouldn't comment, only getting some papers his tenth already finished or even sitting next to them on the couch, joining their little session of silence.

These days were rare, oh so rare, but at the same time very pleasant.

…Until Hibird would sing the Namimori anthem, that is. Neither the tenth nor the storm liked the song.

The sky always cared for all of them. He was there to make sure everyone's alright.

He was like a caring parent to all of his friends, never backing down when someone was in a pinch.

So it was inevitable for all of them when even the sky himself broke down.

* * *

It was that one day, when the last remaining Arcobaleno gave his life.

The hellish but caring sun Arcobaleno was taken by the non-Trinisette.

After hearing the horrible news, it first seemed like the tenth took it well enough. He had an unreadable expression plastered on his face, followed by a small nod and retreating to his own room.

Some people, who aren't that close to them, would now compliment him on how strong he was for not breaking down. How he matured over the years for not letting that affect him. But the silver-haired guardian knew better than these people.

He watched the brunette go with a deep frown, feeling broken himself. Everyone loved the tutor. He guided them through all these years of hardship. He was the one who put them all together.

They were more than thankful for that.

But the death of him certainly had to be the worst for the tenth. Even if the brunette sometimes had a hard time training under his tutor, they still shared a deep, unbreakable bond and cared about each other more than they'd admit.

He brunette didn't come out of his room for dinner that day, so the right hand man was worried to no end. With uneasy steps, he made his way to the thick and big mahogany door, the door leading to the chamber of the most powerful mafia boss. But before he'd disturb his precious tenth, he pushed his left ear gently to the door, trying to make out some sound. When he didn't hear any, he slowly opened the door, noticing it wasn't locked.

He shouldn't have opened it though.

There, on the king-sized bed lay the sky guardian, clad in his blankets, crying and sobbing as if there is no tomorrow.

Never in his entire life did the storm guardian see his beloved boss like this. The walls and door were soundproof, the right hand man cursed. Now he was seeing the sky carving in.

He couldn't bear the sight.

So the silver-haired man closed the door behind him, walked to the bed and took his best friend into a tight and big embrace.

The sky did it all the time, so it was time for him to repay his kindness.

The brunette stopped his sobbing, tensed up and looked at his dear friend, before breaking out of his slight shock and reciprocated the said hug, starting all over.

Then, the storm had to cry too.

They didn't need words, they didn't need tea.

The sky only needed a shoulder to cry on.

The storm was the most trusted one.

The pain didn't go away, but sharing it makes one feel better.

* * *

The right hand man still refused inwardly to explain the circumstances the younger tenth was experiencing.

Though, he didn't have to think of something to come up with anymore, for that he already was engulfed into an abyss of light, pink smoke.

And then, everything became dark.

* * *

The next time he could see clearly, he knew exactly where he was. He got all the memories from his past self that fought together with everyone in the future, his period of time. He knew what happened, he now knew that the orange-haired guy was an ally, and that everything's alright.

He wanted to see the tenth.

He wanted it so much. Yet, he acted like normally, acting casually where the brunette was. Everything turned upside down for him, his depression forgotten. He only felt happiness seeking through him as he heard the new ally telling them…

… telling them the tenth Vongola boss is already up at the surface.

He was alive.

He was safe.

Everyone… was safe. The future was saved.

…

He couldn't believe it. He simply couldn't. It was like a dream. The nightmares were replaced by this. No, it…

The right hand man was a puddle of overthrowing emotions. He ran, ran and ran, until he was in the forest of Namimori. He was sure, so sure his tenth would go _there_. He simply knew it.

There was no time to waste. No. He had to make sure the orange-haired man didn't lie. That it really was true, that it was no dream.

Catching his breath, he stood in the clearing where he always was since the faithful day. Where he was and talking with the seemingly dead body inside.

He was here, until the younger version came.

He lost all hope since that day, gained it back when the small boy appeared, was away in a dark abyss…

And now, sitting on the black, garnished coffin, was one brunette, clad in a black suit with matching tie and a white undershirt, looking all grown-up.

The right hand man fell to his knees; they could no longer support him. They felt like jelly. His eyes got wide, his breathing heavy and he could swear his whole body was shaking.

He now got the full attention from his… tenth.. He still didn't believe it was him. He still thought it was false to believe before him sat his at all hands beloved best friend. But then, he did believe.

It was him.

He was alive and healthy.

He was right before him.

"Hayato... you did a great job."

The smile was genuine.

The smile he wanted to see so much since then.

It was there. It was him.

It was no dream.

"T-Tenth…"

It was reality.

* * *

On the beach

Today, I saw you on the beach again

Foam of the waves drifted to your feet.

You dug your finger into the sand

Drawing, where nothing remained

You were so deep into your game

With the everlasting perishablity

Wave came and star and circle collapsed

Wave went away and you were ready anew

Laughing, you turned towards me

Didn't forebode the pain I was receiving

Because the most beautiful wave came to the beach

And it erased your footprints.

_-Marie Luise Kaschnitz_

* * *

**Author's note: I hope you all enjoyed it. Reviews are more than appreciated. I'd love them.^^**

**Also, I've read somewhere that Gamma told Gokudera once that his older version was the only one attending the funeral for Tsuna. Now, I've searched through all the episodes where Gokudera and Gamma interact, to no avail. Does anybody know? Cause I really can't remember and I'm desperate to find it (the statement makes me so sad).**

**Because I wasn't 100% sure this statement was true, I didn't include it, sorry about that.**

**Have a nice day and start into a happy new year 2015!**

**(For some reason, I can't add space how I want it, so the poem at the end is one big mass of a text without verses. So, if my formatting sucks, blame it on the website ._.)**


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